Editor's note: Reporter Jenny Overman volunteered last week to participate in a self-defense class for women offered by the Fort Mill Police Department and held at the Leroy Springs Recreation Complex. This is her first-person account of the experience:

FORT MILL -- When I stand in line at the Post Office on Tom Hall Street, I'll usually chat with the other customers. Often, I'll tell them all about myself. Where I live, how many children I have, and what I'm cooking for supper that night.

I'll probably talk about where I work, my husband's name, and where my parents live. I'll practically draw a map to make sure everyone can find my jewelry and be sure they all know what times of the day or night you can pop into our house and steal it unnoticed.

And when I'm shopping at Harris Teeter and approached by someone in the parking lot, I assume the person needs directions. Or I figure that I went to high school with the person and just don't recognize him or her right away. Surely he's not trying to steal my purse. I live in Fort Mill, after all, where I'm more likely to run into one of my dad's golfing buddies than I am to run into an attacker. Right?

Unfortunately not.

Crime is on the rise in Fort Mill, and at a self-defense course last Wednesday night, I was confronted with the dangers of my small town-safety mentality. Complacency, Sgt. Paula Neely of the Fort Mill Police Department calls it. Women especially, she said, become complacent as they go about their daily routines and forget to be mindful that lurking in the parking lot or waiting outside your home could be someone who wants to rob you or hurt you.

You have to be ready to fight back, Neely says, and she's not just spouting ideas. She's showing women how to fend for themselves. Neely and her husband, Carson Neely with the York County Sheriff's Office, have partnered with Lt. Ray Dixon, crime prevention officer for the FMPD, on a series of self-defense courses.

The course is designed to teach women basic defensive moves, and like the old sports analogy goes, Neely taught me and a group of five other women that the best defense is a good offense.

Avoidance, Neely said, is the best way to prevent a crime from happening. Don't leave your car unlocked, she reminded us, and be mindful of your surroundings wherever you go.

Instead of walking out of CVS with a cell phone in one hand, a toddler in the other and my elbow pushing the cart, I learned to put something down (probably not the toddler), look around the area, and check out my car before I get inside.

When avoidance doesn't work, Neely showed us a few quick moves to free ourselves from a potential attacker. With padding protecting our arms and shins, we paired off and practiced punches and kicks on women we'd met just a few moments earlier.

Flashing back to every Kung Fu movie my husband has made me sit through, I landed a couple of solid punches on my partner's protected hands. I felt strong, and within the hour of practice I could feel my chances of success against an attacker increase dramatically.

The biggest battle I face now is overcoming my own instinct to assume everyone is polite and friendly. I have to remind myself that strangers are to be eyed warily.

Now that I've been jolted out of my insulated world, if a man grabbed me around the wrist in a parking lot tomorrow would I still pause and say, "Can I help you, sir? Do you need directions?" Or, "hey, didn't we go to preschool together?"

Not anymore. If someone puts their hands on you without your permission, Neely said, it's an assault. Err on the side of caution, she said, and get away from him.

Preschool companion or not, he's getting a swift kick to the shin.